


Stumbling Block

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [112]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, YCMAL 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Got married over the summer,” Jared says.Rogers blinks. “Didn’t even know you were dating someone,” he says.Jared shrugs. Bland, boring, no big deal. “I was. I’m a private guy.”“Well,” Rogers says, clapping him on the back. “Congrats.”“Thanks,” Jared says, blinking when Rogers wanders away. That was easy. He hopes it stays that easy.
Relationships: OMC/OMC
Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [112]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/849798
Comments: 39
Kudos: 283





	Stumbling Block

The media may not notice Jared’s ring, but the Oilers do. It takes literally sixty seconds for Rogers to pull him aside and say, “Is that a wedding ring?”

“Yeah,” Jared says, trying his very best to sound normal, not guilty. Which, he’s obviously not feeling guilty about it, but bland is way better than acting all squirrelly, getting Rogers suspicious, and then, trapped, blurting ‘you caught me, I married a Flame’. Not that Jared has been paranoid about that exact situation happening. Hell, apparently he wasn’t paranoid enough, because he thought he’d have more time than a minute before someone noticed. He should underestimate people less.

“Got married over the summer,” Jared says.

Rogers blinks. “Didn’t even know you were dating someone,” he says.

Jared shrugs. Bland, boring, no big deal. “I was. I’m a private guy.”

“Well,” Rogers says, clapping him on the back. “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Jared says, blinking when Rogers wanders away. That was easy. He hopes it stays that easy.

*

It does not stay that easy. The Oilers media continues not notice his ring or just doesn’t care enough to ask about it — he’s no Bryce, so it definitely could be either — which is a relief, but two days later Morris comes over to his stall, twisting his hands like he’s got a guilty secret.

“Hi?” Jared says.

“I’ve been wondering if it’s too early to propose to my girlfriend,” Morris says.

Jared almost says ‘aren’t you a little young?’ before he realises that sounds patently ridiculous, considering Morris is at least a year older than him, and Jared’s currently wearing a wedding band.

“Um,” Jared says.

“You got married this summer?” Morris adds.

“…Yeah,” Jared says.

“How long were you a couple before you got married?” Morris asks.

“Three years,” Jared says.

Morris sags a little, so Jared guesses it hasn’t been that long for him and his girlfriend.

“Just, you know, do it when it feels right?” Jared says uncomfortably. He’s not good at advice. Advice isn’t his thing. Does this ring mean he’s going to have to keep doing it? Not that he’ll take it off even if it does mean that, but it’ll suck.

“Yeah, thanks,” Morris says, like Jared wasn’t completely useless. He’s too nice for his own good.

*

That seems to open the floodgates. Not of people asking Jared for marriage advice, thank fuck, but asking questions about the wedding itself, which is nerve-wracking.

“Got any pics from your wedding?” Johnson asks. He’s new to the team, picked up in free-agency, so Jared doesn’t know why he’d even care.

“Not on my phone,” Jared says, and then Johnson, who apparently got married that summer himself, starts showing Jared picture after picture after picture of his own wedding, which is boring, but at least means he drops the subject. Jared’s pretty sure he just asked for an excuse to show all of his pictures, actually. His wife looks very pretty in her wedding gown, and Jared gets slugged hard in the arm for saying so, which he thinks is meant to be affectionate thanks? It hurts.

Rogers asked if he got married around Calgary, which is an easy question, and Morris asks why they haven’t ever met Jared’s spouse, which he can kind of side-step with a ‘it’s long-distance right now, they’ve got a job they love in Calgary’, and Jacobi asks him his wife’s name, which is — not one that’s easy to side-step. For a couple obvious reasons.

Jared shrugs. “It’s a secret,” he says, trying again to sound bored, probably failing.

Julius snorts beside him, and Jared steps on his foot. It _is_ a secret.

*

Getting questions about his marriage is a kind of annoying thread to what is a fucking exhausting training camp. Bryce doesn’t have to deal with it, apparently, either the questions, according to both him and Chaz, because the Flames remain apparently oblivious that Bryce is married, despite the media attention, and also assholes — Bryce and Chaz obviously excepted — and probably the same level of exhaustion. 

Bryce works hard. Bryce works really hard, Jared is not saying Bryce doesn’t work hard, because he does. He’s still pretty much an automatic add to the roster, and Jared is — well, Jared’s a hell of a lot more stable than he was, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t giving everything he has all week while trying to dodge questions about being married.

He makes the preseason roster, which is honestly the bare minimum he expected, but still a relief. Unfortunately that means he’s stuck going out for drinks even though he’s so tired he wants to die, because it’s an Oilers tradition that everyone who gets through training camp without getting cut goes out together. It’s a stupid tradition. Jared wonders if anyone will notice if he takes a nap at the table.

“Matheson is fucking with us,” Jacobi announces from halfway down the table, and now Jared’s awake. Hearing his name will do that to him.

“What the hell are you talking about, Vic?” Rogers asks.

“Think about it,” Jacobi says. “Sticks a cheap gold ring on his left hand, listens to you all cluck like fucking gossiping hens when he refuses to tell anyone anything, laughs his ass off on the inside. Dude’s like what, fifteen? No way he’s married.”

“I’m twenty and I am so married,” Jared mutters to Julius, which comes out immature and petulant, so Jared can’t even blame Julius for rolling his eyes at him. And it wasn’t a cheap ring. Not as expensive as Bryce probably would have preferred, but not cheap either. Whatever, better not to skimp on something he’s planning on wearing for the rest of his life.

Also, Jared’s seen a lot of pranks in his hockey time — doesn’t get himself involved with any of them, and never gets victimised by them because he guesses he wafts ‘I will fuck you up worse’ at people, but he’s seen plenty — and no one has ever done a prank that intricate before. That’s like full on serial killer. Jared’s a little afraid of Jacobi right now.

“Victor,” Rogers says. “Did you just call other people gossips? You?”

Jacobi waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just saying, the rookie’s fucking with y’all.”

Jared bites back an indignant ‘I’m not a rookie anymore’. It’s not worth it, and Julius will just roll his eyes again.

“I went to his wedding,” Julius pipes up.

“Halla,” Jared hisses, betrayed. Once he gets past the insult, he actually likes the idea of everyone believing he was fucking with them and leaving him to his own personal business.

“Well, I did,” Julius says.

“Oh yeah?” Jacobi asks. “What’s his wife’s name?”

“It’s a secret,” Julius says without batting an eye, and Jared half wants to hug him, half wants to strangle him.

“They’re in on it together,” Jacobi says. “And you’re all buying into it, you idiots.”

“Dunno, don’t see OJ being that kind of guy,” Levesque says, like a) Jared is and b) they’re not both sitting here listening to everything. Also, Jared can totally see Julius doing that. They don’t know him at all.

“Let the kid have some privacy if he wants it,” Rogers says, which Jared appreciates.

“It’s not private if it’s not real,” Jacobi argues, and when he gives Jared a suspicious look Jared smirks at him and twists the ring around his finger, just because it’s amusing to see the face he makes, all ‘did you see that? Totally fucking with us’.

Him and Julius escape the table as soon as it’s not rude, find a quiet-ish place to nurse their drinks by the bar.

“Midnight,” Julius keeps saying, half to Jared and half to himself. They’re two Cinderellas excited to get the fuck out of this ball, and midnight, they’ve decided, is late enough that they won’t get shit for being unsociable.

They pay up at a quarter to, carefully not near any of the guys who could see them do that and demand they get another round, and when Julius cheerfully yelps ‘Midnight!’ in Jared’s ear, they go say goodbye to who they need to say goodbye to, sticking together. Too dangerous to go it alone, even if they get chirped for being attached at the hip again. Julius is weak and someone will convince him to stay and then he’ll send pleading looks at Jared to help him escape, and Jared wants his bed so bad. It was a long ass training camp.

“You are actually married, right, J Math?” Rogers asks him when they reach him in the goodbye tour, low, like if Jared is about to admit it’s a prank, he’ll go along with it, he just wants to be sure.

“I am actually married,” Jared confirms. “I just don’t really like talking about my personal life.”

He thinks Julius is smirking beside him, but he doesn’t check, because then he’d be obligated to elbow him.

“Fair enough,” Rogers says. “I’ll get the guys off your back.”

“Thank you,” Jared says.

*

Rogers must have put out a team blast or something, because everyone mostly leaves him alone after that. Jared takes back every single bad thing he’s thought or said about Darryl Rogers in his entire life. And it’s a long list, because he’s a good D-man and he’s been the enemy for like, a decade. All scratched. Good dude.

The Flames still apparently haven’t noticed Bryce is wearing a wedding ring. It’s hit pathetic level of obliviousness. Or maybe they have noticed, they just don’t care enough to ask Bryce about it.

It’s kind of sad that Jared has gone from idolising this team to wanting to fight them all? Even sadder that it’s not because he’s an Oiler, but because his husband’s a Flame.

He gets close, the one game he plays the Flames — the other he gets a ‘we know what he can do, let’s give it to the bubble guys’ scratch, which is pretty fucking nice. He gets in tight with Patterson, and it ends with a few mutual slashes, a couple shoves before the linesman’s coming in to separate them.

 _feisty_ , Bryce sends from their apartment, a spectator for the night. The Flames know exactly what they have with him. 

They’ve got to fly out for Vancouver first thing in the morning, but first Jared goes home, shows Bryce exactly how fucking feisty he is. Loves the hell out of Julius, who covers for him so Jared can spend the night in his own bed, his own husband wrapped around him.

*

The Oilers win more than they lose in the preseason. And on one hand, those games mean a sum total of jack and shit, and they got lucky during one split game, their better squad against the Canucks’ like, AHL roster, and even then it was a tight one. But on the other hand, winning feels great and Jared can’t help but enjoy it when they do.

He clears the cull before the regular season, also expected, also a huge relief. More than clears: Julius is moved up to the second line, and Jared goes right with him. A better team, he wouldn’t be there, he knows he wouldn’t, but he’s top fucking six before he’s even through his ELC, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

Jared’s line plays awesome from the get-go — okay, Julius’ line, Jared knows who’s responsible for the awesomeness — and the Oilers are doing surprisingly well considering they’re even weaker than last year, Fitzgerald gone to Detroit and no real bandage for that loss picked up in the offseason. By surprisingly well Jared just means they’re over .500, but whatever, it feels terrific.

Jared’s convinced Julius to actually start helping him in the kitchen, decided to tackle some of the more ambitious recipes provided by the team nutritionist, and sometimes the recipes fail and they suffer through it or order delivery, but sometimes him and Julius are sharing a silent, proud nod before shovelling greatness into their mouths. Jared’s starting to get his dad’s culinary midlife crisis.

He misses Bryce, obviously. He’s used to being away from him by now, of course, but for some reason it feels simultaneously harder and easier now that they’re married. Harder because it feels like the newlywed bliss got rudely interrupted by Jared needing to head back up to Edmonton, easier because he feels — secure, he doesn’t know. To paraphrase Bryce: he knows Bryce is somewhere in the world, wearing his ring, being Jared’s husband. Plus their schedules have been fairly kind, home stretches at the same time so far, games on alternating days, so Jared’s managed a trip down to Calgary, Bryce one up to Edmonton, and the schedule’s not going to cooperate forever — November’s a shitshow — but they’ve managed to carve out time together.

They’ll get even more time with a game on Halloween…Eve? Is that a thing? Though Jared’s not sure how much will be just them time. He didn’t actually tell his family he was in town when he came down to Calgary — in his defence, he was there for less than twenty-four hours total — so this is the first time they’ll be seeing him since the preseason. They’ve already got tickets to the game, and Jared’s been informed that him and Bryce are coming for whatever meal they can fit into their schedule, and ‘no meal’ isn’t an option. Addendum that if Julius would like to come he’s more than welcome. 

That sounds bad, like Jared doesn’t want to see his family, and he does, it’s just that time with Bryce — like, face to face, can actually touch either other, probably gonna be touching each other — is a precious commodity. If he misses his mom, he can call her. If he misses Bryce, he can call him too, but it isn’t quite the same. The proximity means more with him than it does with his family.

Still, he’s looking forward to the game. Well, right up until he isn’t.

*

The first indication there’s something officially rotten between Jared and Oilers management is, well — it’s not subtle. 

Deslauriers has been professional, if a little cold with Jared every time they’ve met, and Jared has been professional and probably also cold with him. Bryce’s name hasn’t been mentioned once, which Jared thinks suits the both of them. Jared figures it’s a whole ‘pretend it never happened, let’s move on’ sort of thing, and obviously Jared would prefer a supportive GM, but at least he doesn’t have a front office that’s openly combative with him, the way he suspects the Flames are with Bryce. 

That lasted until the end of October, at least. Mulligan tells Jared to stick around after practice the day before they head out on their roadie, and Jared exchanges a glance with Julius, who gives him a curious look back. Jared’s been playing well, like, really well, and the chemistry on his line’s going strong, so he doubts he’s getting demoted or anything.

“I will wait?” Julius says after Jared showers, changes into street clothes. Jared was his ride in, and Julius is probably just too lazy to find another way home, but Jared appreciates it anyway, knowing he’ll be waiting on the other side of whatever it is. Maybe it’s bad personal news? Maybe someone in Jared’s family is injured, or dying, or — he checks his phone. Nothing, and he would have been pulled aside during practice if it was about an imminent death. Maybe Deslauriers told Mulligan about Bryce. If that’s the case — 

Jared needs to stop thinking about this and actually go talk to Mulligan. It’s probably nothing, maybe just pointers about something Jared’s messing up that he didn’t notice, or, who knows, just a quick chat about Jared keeping up the good play. Not that that’s really Mulligan’s style — that’s what their assistant coaches are for — but Jared _has_ been on fire lately. 

“Shut the door,” Mulligan says when Jared walks into his office, brusque, and Jared reminds himself that Mulligan’s always brusque as he closes the door after himself, that it isn’t necessarily a bad sign.

“Sit down,” Mulligan says. 

Jared nervously sits.

“You’re not playing next game,” Mulligan says.

“Like—” Jared says. “Wait, are you scratching me?”

“Yes,” Mulligan says.

“What?” Jared says. “But I’m playing well.”

“I don’t like it either,” Mulligan says. He does look pretty constipated, but then, that’s his default expression. “Wasn’t my choice, Matheson.”

“My family already has tickets to the game,” Jared says dumbly, as if Mulligan is going to say ‘oh man, never mind then, you’re un-scratched’. 

Mulligan sighs. “Not my call,” he says. “Believe me, if it was my call, you’d be playing.”

“I, just—” Jared says, then, “ _Why_?”

“Didn’t tell me,” Mulligan says. “Just said to scratch you that night, I’d have you back for Vancouver.” 

Scratched despite strong recent play, for one night only. One very specific night only. Jared’s starting to put the pieces together himself, and it makes an incredibly ugly picture.

“I’m Halla’s ride,” Jared says. “Is that—”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Mulligan says, and when Jared pushes back from the chair, “J Math?” 

“Yeah?” Jared asks. He hates that nickname, its mix of lazy and nonsensical, hates even more that he’s started instinctively responding to it.

“Whatever you did to piss Deslauriers off?” Mulligan says. “None of my business, I don’t want to know what it is, but — whatever you did, you might want to quit it.”

Easier said than done when it’s his fucking existence. Or, at least, his choice of spouse, which is fundamentally the same to Jared, since that’s not something that’s going to change.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jared says, instead of any of that, because it’s probably better not to piss off your coach as well as your GM, and anyway, Mulligan’s the sort of guy you say ‘yes sir’ to no matter what he’s telling you. Jared’s pretty sure the only reason he’s been coaching here as long as he has, a unicorn of longevity when most coaches of crap teams get a year or two max, is because management is too afraid of him to fire him.

“What did Coach say?” Julius asks when Jared comes out, trailing behind him when Jared goes straight for the door, needing to not be here right now.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jared says. 

Not that Julius won’t be finding out soon enough — he’s going to notice when his line gets shuffled. But Jared doesn’t want to talk about it, because he thinks the second he says it out loud, how fucking stupid and petty and vicious a move it is by a grown fucking man because what, Jared’s gay? Has a husband? Has a husband who plays for the Flames? If he says it out loud he’s not going to be able to drive home, and he needs to get there, have the privacy to make the call to Greg, because this is something Greg needs to know about, make the call to his parents to tell him they’re going to a game he won’t even be playing in, make the call to Bryce.

Bryce is going to lose his shit. So’s his dad. Maybe Greg. 

Jared forces himself to take long breaths as he walks to the car, Julius trailing behind him. Wishes Julius had a licence right now, but then, this is probably for the best, Jared forced to focus on something that isn’t how fucking _unfair_ this is. His parents always warned him about the hazards of being a gay pro athlete, about the homophobia in the league, and it’s not that he didn’t believe them, he absolutely believed them, but he just — he doesn’t know. Figured he’d be the exception? Hoped, at least.

“Are you okay?” Julius says, after a silent drive home.

“No,” Jared says.

“Talk about it?” Julius asks a little awkwardly.

“Later?” Jared says. Julius deserves to know before it hits the room, or worse, the media. It’s his line Deslauriers is fucking with, and he’s the only one outside of front office in the know about why. “I have to call my agent.”

“You’re not—” Julius says, alarmed.

“No,” Jared says. “No, I just. Dinner at mine? We’ll talk about it.”

“Okay,” Julius says, then gives his shoulder an awkward little bump with his fist. “All good?”

“Sure,” Jared says, and manages to hold a weak smile on his face until Julius gets off the elevator before him, when it collapses in on itself.


End file.
